Scary Age No More

I used to be terrified of the age 25. Seriously, 25 was my extra scary age. I used to think, “ohmygah*, 25?!!”

Every birthday celebrated felt like a minor death sentence. It was all very dramatic – like, Elle Woods breaking up with her boyfriend dramatic.





I didn’t even celebrate 24. I worked and went to bed instead (ahem, the 25 year old me thinks the 24 year old me is super-lame).

But to be clear, I cemented 25 as my Armageddon back when I turned 18. I had the coolest girlfriends, I was in a super hot a cappella group, and I basically thought I was the shit. What could get better than being 18 and extra hot*? Clearly, I was blinded.

If I could give my 18 year old self a side eye* I would. Now, that’s not to say I don’t have the occasional “eep! I’m 25!” moment. The most clear being the time I wouldn’t buy candy for some boy’s “basketball team” on the street and he called me an “uptight old head*” .......... iCant.

That said, being 25 (I celebrated my birthday in September) is so rich and ripe.

• It’s like being a teenager, except you're 5 years from 30.
• It’s like being in college except you live in the city, pay rent and big girl bills, and have lots of sex.
• It’s like being a foolish hot mess, except for when you’re at the office, because then you’re buttoned up and super fly.
• It’s like being version 2.5 or 3GS (but not quite 4G because I’m not quite 30).
• It’s like being “MJ Fadeaway” + “Maiah on Fiyah” + “Ms. Johnson (if you’re nasty)” all the time.

...and I love it.


What was your scary turned favorite age?

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*"ohmygah" - copyright 2003 – 2010
*I was actually fat with a pretty face. But still. Confidence is a hell of a drug.
*What’s a side eye? Click here.
*What’s an old head? Click here.

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What's My Name - Rihanna feat. Drake

You all know I'm in love with Drake. This music video made me fall a little harder. Enjoy.

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On Connectivity: Facebook, Twitter, & Everything In-between

My dear friend, Larissa of The Ella Project, wrote a brilliant piece on technology and how it allows us to be too connected without actually connecting. You see, we live in an age where we are all Facebook and Twitter babies. We exist behind a series of emoticons and "like" buttons; retweets and hashtags.

Personally, I'm okay with it. I hate talking on the phone unless I'm talking to my mother. Why? Because I am convinced I can NEVER hear anything you say. When I get confused I just say "okay" or laugh in hopes that you'll think I know what you're saying instead of having to ask "wait, WHAT?" for the 5th time. Especially living in New York City, where people are shouting expletives on the street and ambulance sirens are the normal background noise. Why go through the "one second, a police car is going by"when I could just text you a simple "see you in 5."

This mystery gchat couldn't have come at a better time.

Moreover, I love a good emoticon conversation. When words get in the way, there's nothing like a quick emoticon stink eye or wink face to get straight to the point. And a hot, smoking poop instead of a civilized "no thank you." in an email? I'll take it.

That said, there is something so necessary about human to human contact. Larissa notes:

There is something about human contact. Something about actually hearing someone laugh rather than see an “lol”. [...] Let’s meet each other for drinks, dinner, laughter and hugs.

Wait! Lets! Because a well wishing tweet or the happiest of emoticons can never give across the same feeling as a hug. There is a reason why we say things like "I have the greatest story for you, let's catch up over drinks or dinner." And there is nothing like seeing those reactions in your friend's eyes as you tell it.

So, where do you draw the line? Apparently, it's getting blurrier as we get further in to this technologically advanced world we live in.

AM New York felt it was front page worthy to note that more and more people are getting the axe from their employer due to writing inappropriate things about their bosses or jobs online. This generation of kids growing up on twitter are learning to express themselves in 140 characters or less. When I grew up, I couldn't leave the dinner table before talking in full paragraphs about my day and finishing all the broccoli on my plate.

There must be some middle ground. I feel lucky enough to know where to find my plateau. It starts with some cosmopolitans at Pazza Notte and my favorite girlfriends telling those great stories that we save for the reactions.

Where's yours?

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11:11

A tweet by dear friend, Carolina, of United States of Mascara

While catching up on old issues of Glamour Magazine, I came across an article in the October 2010 issue entitled 8 Things You Need to Know About... You by Wendy Shanker. The article, which doesn't depart very far from the fluffiness I love about Glamour Magazine, touches on 8 great points. They vary from health issues, to personal well being, to money management; but my favorite was #8:

A go-to wish for anytime you're near a fountain, about to blow out candles or see 11:11 on a clock. 

It's true. 11:11 rolls around and everyone closes their eyes to prep for a wish. I've been participating in this routine for as long as I can remember. Slumber parties with girl friends meant we had to stay up until 11:11pm to make a wish! Then (despite the fact that if you tell someone your wish, it will never come true) we would tell our wishes to each other before finally going to sleep.

Back then, the wishes were silly. My favorite memories include the following standard wishes:

• A pair of Adidas Sambas
• A new L.L. Bean backpack with my initials embroidered on it
• My first kiss
• A slow dance at the school dance with the school heart throb
• A later curfew

Clearly, these are all life changing wishes for someone in middle and high school. When I grew up, so did my wishes. They seem to align more with the author's, who notes the following:

My wish list? The continued stability of my health, for which I am so grateful; the possibility of starting a family on my own; another Madonna tour; a constant flow of funny things to write about (and people to pay me to do it); and most of all, an appreciation of what life serves up every day.

I love the cheeky addition of the Madonna tour wish, but stay aligned with the rest. 

My go-to wish? Since about my sophomore year in college, it's been the same thing: "happiness." Because you really can't go wrong with that, can you? 

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For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow is Enuf

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I can't quite put into words my excitement surrounding the release of For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow is Enuf. Written by Ntozake Shange, the screenplay is added to the roster of Tyler Perry. Initially, I was worried how this partnership would work, but the reviews I've read so far are positive.

You see, I have a certain affinity for the "Sorry" piece in this beautiful work of literature. It was introduced to me in high school, just a few years after it's release in '97, during a summer theatre workshop. I began performing the piece then, as directed by a beautiful actress who taught me a lot of the meaning being that monologue. My obsession grew as I continued to better understand the weight of the writing.

For Colored Girls isn't just a pretty work of art or another published book sitting on shelves at Borders. It's a game changer.

As I listen to Janelle Monae's Without A Fight, I am fighting not to say something cliche like how I truly believe this is a book that has influced, inspired, and affected the lives of many black women, myself included. Oops, said it. Oh well.

For Colored Girls hits theatres this Friday, November 5th. I'm thrilled, and am looking forward to seeing it with the group of strong and beautiful women I love to call my friends. I hope you get to do the same.

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On Being A Black Cat, part 2

To clear up any confusion: I was, indeed, a black cat on Halloween. 

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 And just because I've been a black cat [almost] since birth does not make me uncool. And contrary to popular belief, it certainly is not like still dressing up as the Black Power Ranger at the age of 25. The Black Power Ranger is awkward, and no longer cool, and being a cat for Halloween is classic, like the 1950's... (thanks for the reference, Dushane)

 From left to right: Pilot Larissa of The Ella Project, Allie the Devil, Me aka the best black cat in the world, Crystal aka Nicki Minaj & Vicky Lee aka Major Bombshell.

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